The Stolen Ghosts Page 22

  “So you mentioned Fowlis Westerby? How did you meet him, then?” asked Miss Bigsby.

  “He was our haunter, only it all went a bit wrong. It’s a long story, and I’m sure he’ll tell you when all of this is over,” said Sarah.

  Thunder rocked the corridor with such force that Miss Bigsby fell forward. Sarah caught the frail teacher.

  “I think you’re needed elsewhere, my dear. Remember what I always told you when you were little,” said Miss Bigsby.

  “The living are always stronger than the dead,” replied Sarah.

  She righted Miss Bigsby and tears threatened to burst free of her eyes. Periseus nudged her hand with his head. Miss Bigsby gave a half-hearted wave as Sarah and Periseus headed off down the corridor. Sadness bubbled up behind her eyes for the fate of her old teacher.

  At least she’s doing research. She’s not just an assistant.

  Sarah didn’t mind Handle too much but she had more respect for Fowlis, and she hoped that people would respect Miss Bigsby. She might be a bit dotty, but she meant a lot to her.

  “Do you know that lady?” asked Periseus.

  “She taught me when I was nine. She was a brilliant teacher, and she told the best ghost stories,” replied Sarah. Another peal of thunder spurred them to hurry faster along the corridor.

  “Did they help you to deal with your current predicament?”

  “Not really. None of the stories featured anything like this. I’m a mortal and yet here I am, on a completely different plane. You’d think that I’d be dead if I entered your world, wouldn’t you? And then I ate some food in Templeton’s study and that only made me half dead, so I’m not alive or dead. But my brain’s still working and my body’s still doing reasonably normal things,” replied Sarah.

  “Ah, here we are,” said Periseus.

  The sphinx stopped outside a pair of double doors at the end of the corridor. Aside from the two marble pedestals that flanked the doorframe, the entrance was less ostentatious than the main doors in the atrium. No frescoes or flower arrangements assaulted the senses here. Sarah stared at the doors. What side of the room did they open onto? She wanted to come out facing Templeton instead of having to creep around his assembled haunters, but perhaps the element of surprise would help her. The bats clinging to her jumper squeaked at her. She shushed them as best she could.

  “Yes, we’re here. Yes, I know what you’re going to do, and I want you to do it.”

  “Ready?” asked Periseus. The sphinx stood up and wrapped a front paw around the doorknob.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” replied Sarah.

  Periseus opened the right-hand door and Sarah slipped inside.

  Chapter 31

  The haunters milled about in the ballroom. Historical figures reclined on couches arranged around the perimeter and other ghosts leaned on mantelpieces, deep in conversation. Templeton stood at the far end of the ballroom, an unlit cigar hanging from his mouth. Fowlis and Handle had been locked into a set of double stocks. Every now and then, Templeton bent to say something to them. Handle’s face bore an expression of bored resignation, while fury burned in Fowlis’s eyes.

  “It is indeed a delight to see you back again, my dear, although some might question the wisdom of such a return,” said a deep voice from her right. She looked up into the smiling face of Arthur.

  “I had to come back. I couldn’t leave Fowlis like that. I promised to help him and as much as I might have wanted to stay at home, I had unfinished business here,” replied Sarah.

  “Such chivalry…you would have been a welcome addition to my court back in my day.” The knight’s warm smile reached his eyes, and Sarah couldn’t help but return the smile. She liked Arthur. It was a shame he hadn’t been her haunter, but if he had been, she would never have met Fowlis. He might be a ghost, but Fowlis was one of the best friends she had ever made.

  “Is Merlin here too?” Sarah looked around for the legendary wizard. She didn’t know what he would look like, but she pictured him with a long white beard and a pointy hat.

  “Alas, no. Templeton banished him to the Beyond just after the haunters started going missing. I wouldn’t like to bet that Templeton knew Merlin wouldn’t let him get away with this. I could have challenged Templeton if I’d had Merlin backing me up, but he was always the brains of the operation,” said Arthur. His smile faded.

  “Can we get Merlin back?”

  “We can do anything if we beat Templeton.”

  “What’s your sword made of?” asked Sarah. Her eyes fixed on the beautifully carved hilt.

  “I confess, I do not know. I would have assumed steel, but it is far too strong to be mere steel. I would ask the Lady but naturally she is not here—she exists between the worlds. Much like yourself, actually,” said Arthur.

  “Would the Managing Director know?” asked Sarah.

  “I do not know, but we don’t know where she is either.” Arthur looked down at the sword. “Although I would advise against any ideas involving Excalibur. She can only be used by the righteous, and as much as disposing of Templeton would be a righteous act, he cannot be harmed by weapons of this realm.”

  “Didn’t you bring her with you when you died? Doesn’t that mean she’s from my plane?”

  “No. She originally came from the Otherworld, meaning she is the perfect weapon on the mortal plane, but ultimately useless against Templeton while he’s up here.”

  “Oh. Right. Well, I suppose your sword might be useless…but this isn’t.” Sarah showed Arthur the poker. His eyes lit up and a broad grin spread across his face.

  “Good old-fashioned iron!” he exclaimed.

  “Only the best. Pity I can’t study any of this for a degree.” Sarah put the poker behind her back.

  “A degree?”

  “Never mind. Will you be able to help me? I’d like to know I’ve got back-up.”

  “As long as Templeton possesses my anchor, I am in his employ. If you managed to retrieve my anchor then yes, I could provide some useful back-up, as you call it, but I do not know where the anchors are being held, and a search for them would simply waste time. However, I may watch over you, and I will certainly offer any aid if the opportunity presents itself.” Arthur knelt before Sarah and bowed his head with respect.

  “Please! Get up! People will stare,” hissed Sarah.

  “Sarah!”

  Templeton’s booming voice echoed down the ballroom and Sarah swore under her breath. Arthur stood up as the large former fairy thudded down the length of the room. Hundreds of pairs of eyes watched his progress. Fowlis hung his head and Handle’s eyes widened in fear.

  “Arthur, I should have known that your need to please the ladies would make you weak.” Templeton glared at the legendary king.

  Arthur shrugged and his hand curled around Excalibur’s hilt. “Mock me all you want, Templeton, but it will not change the fact that I cannot abide you, and as such, your words will hardly wound me.”

  Sniggers spread around the room as various ghosts snickered into hands or handkerchiefs. Templeton spun round and glared at his assembled haunters. Sarah tightened her grip on the poker.

  “Now,” she whispered.

  The bats clinging to her jumper sprang into action and launched themselves at Templeton. He thrashed to clear them away, but the bats dodged his arms and focused on his face. Sarah leapt forward and swung the poker around to connect with the back of Templeton’s knees. He crashed to the floor and yelped in pain as she took his legs out from under him.

  “I know who you are, Pharrio Phalanxius Pharbridge!” She brought the poker down again on Templeton’s side. He howled in pain and his eyes flashed red.

  Am I imagining it, or is Templeton ever so slightly smaller?

  “How do you know my name?” The bats clawed across his face and he bawled.

  “There are more books in my library than The Ghostlie Manifestoe, you idiot.” Sarah lined up another shot but Templeton lashed out with one arm. Sarah tried to avoid h
is blow but stumbled backward. Pain erupted at the base of her spine, shooting up through her back as through her body was on fire. Sarah howled and the haunters cried out.

  “Templeton, you bastard!” screamed Fowlis.

  The sound of Fowlis’s voice cut through the agony. A memory flashed through Sarah’s mind. It was Christmas Day and she’d strapped on her new roller skates. Without waiting for her parents to come outside to watch, she’d stumbled and wheeled her way down the front garden. She’d crossed the pavement outside and slipped off the kerb, her bottom colliding with the unforgiving stone. The agony in her back echoed the pain she’d felt then. Still, the pain had passed then and it would pass now.

  She looked across at Templeton. He hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the bats attacking his face. The sensation returned to her feet and Sarah pushed herself upright, leaning on the poker for support.

  “You can’t even attack me properly. You’re pathetic,” snarled Templeton.

  “Your jacket has elbow patches. You’re in no position to call anyone pathetic,” replied Sarah.

  He lurched towards her. She lifted the poker and swung again. The metal collided with his leg and knocked him off his feet. The impact sent another spike of pain up her spine. Templeton sprawled across the floor, his clothes hanging from his frame. Sarah frowned. He was a big man—how could his clothes get bigger?

  He struggled to sit, and his trouser leg rode up towards his knee. The smooth, alabaster skin called out to Sarah. She leaned forward, ignoring the explosion of agony in her back, and pressed the poker against his leg. The stench of burning flesh filled the air and steam rose from the welt that erupted on his skin. The room echoed with Templeton’s unholy screams. He grabbed at his knee, dislodging the bats still clinging to his jacket. They flitted across the room to cling to Handle. Sarah cast a quick glance at the haunters. They all watched, their eyes fixed on the writhing Fey before them. Arthur gave her a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

  “I want you to leave this realm, Pharrio. I want you to release the stolen anchors, and then you will go. You shall not return, and you shall not take your powers with you,” said Sarah. The words sprang unbidden to her lips, as though someone else spoke for her through her own mouth. The sensation felt strange, but it was not entirely unwelcome.

  “I won’t go! This is my realm, and I will have yours too!” His threadbare suit melted away to reveal a tattered black tunic and mud-spattered black leggings. His form shrank even further and he lost the bulk and stature he enjoyed as Templeton. A shock of black hair sprouted from his bald head and the years fell away to reveal a handsome, if cruel, face. The use of his real name must have made him revert to his Fey self.

  Sarah raised the poker high above her head and the creature threw his arms across his face. She gazed around at the trapped ghosts, who willed her to end it. She looked back down at the Fey and she found herself pitying the creature. He still whimpered in pain and huge welts rose under his tunic where the poker had struck him. With one final burst of strength, she brought the poker down across his arms.

  The creature that had once been Templeton let out a primal scream before it froze and turned black. The assembled haunters let out a collective breath and the atmosphere in the ballroom shifted. Sarah prodded the black corpse with her foot, and it exploded in a puff of ash on contact. Templeton’s silver pendant lay among the remains. A shiver of light raced around the room, and the haunters erupted into full colour. Some of the ghosts burst into tears, while others swarmed around Sarah to pat her on the back and congratulate her.

  “Sarah!” called Fowlis from the stocks.

  Sarah dropped the poker, which exploded on contact with the floor. She looked down at the pile of iron filings and a pang of sadness twisted in her stomach. The adventure was over.

  Sarah pushed her way out of the crowd and ran down the ballroom. A padlock held the stocks shut, and she couldn’t get Handle or Fowlis out.

  “Arthur?”

  Arthur broke away from the crowd of ghosts and strode down the hall. Sarah held out her hand for the sword but Arthur shook his head. He split the padlock in two with one strike. Arthur and Sarah heaved the top bar up and over, setting Handle and Fowlis free. Fowlis sat up and rubbed his neck with one hand. Sarah straightened, her hands pressed to her lower back. The pain subsided, but it would be a few days before she felt like doing any exercise.

  The main double doors burst open and a large man with a red nose and a receding hairline ran in. He bent double and breathed heavily. Twelve other people followed him, ranging in height and size.

  “What’s going on? Where’s Templeton?” asked the large man as he stood up.

  “Over there.” Sarah pointed to the pile of ashes.

  “Oh praise the Eternal Ones, it’s over,” said the large man then made his way across to a chair beside the door and sank into it before mopping his brow with a tartan handkerchief.

  “Where are the anchors?” asked a short, fat woman with bright orange hair and a fake beauty spot beside her scarlet pout.

  “I am convinced you will find them in Templeton’s former quarters.” Fowlis rose to address the council.

  The large man nodded in agreement.

  “What happens now?” asked Sarah.

  “We’ve got a lot to do in Control,” replied Handle, who climbed out of the stocks and rubbed his sore wrists. He looked beyond Sarah and his jaw dropped open. Sarah turned around to see a tall woman with skin the colour of fresh snow striding through the ballroom. An icy wind whipped up in her wake. A flowing mane of black curls streamed behind her, and a black cloak the colour of midnight flapped around her legs.

  “Would you just look at this mess? Honestly, I leave you all alone for five minutes and look what happens!” Her voice buzzed with the sound of a million flies. Sarah shuddered.

  “Oh my, you’re here,” said the large council member. He dropped to one knee.

  “Get up. You look idiotic when you do that. Yes, I’m here. One of these little guys got me a message, and I finally found some time to come and investigate.” A bat dislodged itself from Fowlis and landed in the woman’s open palm. She smiled and stroked its furry head. A death knell rang deep in the metallic tones of her voice and Sarah couldn’t help staring at the white-skinned woman. Stars glittered in the depths of her dark eyes.

  “We’re going to need a new president, Managing Director.” Fowlis stood up straight.

  “You’re the Managing Director? Wow, I guess that makes you—” said Sarah.

  “Yes. Your people call me lots of things but you probably know me better as Death. Don’t worry, I’m not going to whip out a scythe. I haven’t used one of those since the sixteenth century,” said the woman. She smiled and her deep purple lips curled back to display sharp grey teeth. “You’re the half-mortal.”

  Sarah nodded, struck dumb by the woman.

  “Oh, it’s okay, don’t worry. I’m not as scary as I look. I owe you a lot, Sarah. I knew Templeton was up to something but I didn’t know it was this bad. If it weren’t for you and this dashing cavalier, I might have an even bigger mess to clean up.” The Managing Director winked at Fowlis and a deep blush crept across his face.

  “So you’re not mad?”

  “Why would I be mad? That Fey has caused me so many headaches over the years. I didn’t even want to take him on in the first place, but…oh well, never mind. That’ll teach me not to give people second chances. I’ll have to send a message to Faerie so they can either condole or celebrate.”

  “I hate to ask but does this mean I can go now?” Sarah thought again of the empty house so far north. She really should get word to her parents.

  “It’s not that simple, Sarah,” said Fowlis.

  “I know I have to eat human food before I can go out of the exit,” said Sarah.

  “And we do not have any on this plane,” said Fowlis. “It will take some time before we can bring control of the anchors back to the council, so we cannot even use
your ring to send you back to the house.”

  “Good job I brought this lot, then, isn’t it?” Sarah emptied her pockets and Fowlis broke out into a grin.

  “Is it okay if she leaves us now?” Fowlis turned to the council and they nodded as one.

  “Hang on, before you enjoy that sugary feast, there’s something I’d like to do,” said the Managing Director.

  Sarah gulped. The Managing Director reached out a slender white hand.

  “You’ve seen a lot more than mortals are ever supposed to. Now, I could erase the memories from your mind completely, but I don’t think you want that, do you?” she asked.

  Sarah shook her head.

  “In that case, I’m going to give you a little present, from all of us. Now I think you already had a hint of this anyway, if your presence in that little dream theatre of yours was anything to go by. So I’m going to give you the Sight. After all, you’ve already proven you’re fearless, and once you know there is nothing to fear, then it’s all right for you to be able to See.”

  The Managing Director held her hand over Sarah’s face and closed her eyes with two ice-cold fingers. Sarah held her breath and the Managing Director muttered something under her breath. The guttural words sounded alien to Sarah’s ears.

  Is that what the language of the universe sounds like?

  A jolt ran through Sarah and another ice-cold hand wrapped around her wrist to steady her. A loud click sounded in her ears, followed by a low hum. The steady tone felt comforting.

  “You can open your eyes now.”

  Sarah looked into the midnight eyes of the Managing Director.

  “Everything looks the same,” said Sarah.

  “Of course it does! But down on your plane, you’ll See everything. That hum you hear is the sound of the Otherworld. All I’ve done is nudge your frequency so that you resonate with the wavelength of this plane as well as your own,” said the Managing Director.

  “You make it sound so easy,” said Fowlis.

  The Managing Director winked. Sarah smiled at her. Death wasn’t as frightening as she’d thought she would be.